Broken Record
by xHarleyQuinnx
Summary: Harley Quinn's story is more than just a story, it's a lesson to all. The relationship between Harley Quinn and the Joker is so abnormal and filled with obsession and craziness that it's so...funny. A one-shot!


Broken Recod

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harley belongs to DC comics, as well with the Joker.

Summary: The story of Harley Quinn is more than a story. It's a lesson to all.

* * *

Lightning streaked across Gotham's sky.

Rain caked a thick layer over a trembling, black and red figure, hidden in the shadows of the looming skyscrapers. When compared with the sinister giants, the silhouette was rather invisible against the night sky. The thunder was so deafening, that the girl knew it was okay to cry out, for her cries were muted when combined with the thunder.

Her entire life was sounding more like a broken record.

And as the girl, blanketed in odd clothing that only a harlequin would wear, pondered over her rough past.

She was once sheltered in a comfortable home deep within Gotham, where her only worries were getting to work on time. Her intelligence was striking—seeing how her job paid her upcoming bills and her master's degree from when she was much younger. So her intelligence seemed to pay her off, and soon enough, she grew well-known among psychiatrists. She always seemed to dig inside the patients head, or made them open their eyes and realize just what they were doing. She knew she was skilled at her profession, and she _loved_ it.

That is, until _he_ came along.

Since she lived in this little world where only payments and psychiatry existed, she seldom watched the news. And when she did, it was normally after a hard day of exhausting work. Gotham was in terrible trouble, but she was isolated from all of it. Arkham Asylum was where she spent most of her time, trapped indoors with loony patients that desperately needed _her_ help.

But then a doorway opened. The head doctor asked _her_, personally, to take this upcoming patient. He told her that they all voted her for the most potential in figuring him out, and she was flattered beyond words. She found herself not even _caring_ who the man was, or _what_ he did, she only wanted to take on a new challenge.

But when she finally met him, in a purely white room with him strapped with a straightjacket, she knew what she was dealing with. A true madman.

At first glance, seeing his dark eyes filled with _such_ hatred for humanity, such fire for Gotham's soul, and such chaos filled sensations, she knew he was lost. He was somehow morphed into this kind of being—an unbreakable soul that would never be put back together. He was like nothing she ever laid her ocean blue eyes on. He was dangerous, cocky, devious, and a definite trickster.

But he had no name.

She asked him countless times, but he never failed in shooting back another more personal question. She primarily dreaded their visits, because he always seemed to be the one digging into _her_ mind, instead of the other way around. She was going down, and she knew it perfectly well. But being the determined and stubborn doctor she always was, she fought back the best she could. The man seemed to notice her determination, and one day he pointed it out to her. She denied it, with horrid acting skills, and he only laughed.

In a few days, she found herself _laughing_ along with him. She found herself finding his "odd" sense of humor funny, in a way. The things he shared with her, figments of his life touched her heart. She was supposed to take notes while talking, only she eventually she put the paper down and never picked it back up. She only told the other doctors that he continued to play his little charades, and refused to share any information whatsoever. And she knew what she was doing was what _he_ wanted, but she couldn't help it.

Her entire life was intense and full of studying, college work, and boring activities. And suddenly, as she saw a _clown_ sitting before her sharing a humorous yet dark joke, she couldn't help but let out a giggle.

She needed a good laugh. She needed it for awhile, and now, she was getting it.

Their visits were becoming less professional, and more personal. She found herself anticipating them, getting excited as she stepped into the room, seeing him staring at her through his black rimmed eyes.

But one day, what he said got to her.

"You know, Doc," He started, leaning back in the chair to lazily prop his lanky legs on the table. She would normally chastise him about rude manners, but she liked how relaxed he was. She preferred that over the tense and suspicious man he previously was. "I thought you always said you wanted to keep this…uh, what's the word? Personal? And now look at these little visits we have! I tell you 'bout my views, and you tell me 'bout yours." He took a moment to stare at her stricken, silenced face. "I've also heard that, uh, the shrinks are crazier than the patients…now I know it's _true_."

She was more than insulted—what he said was like a slap to her face. "If anyone is crazy," She whispered in tight fury, standing up to leave abruptly, "it's _you_."

And she left. She stormed from the room without a second glance, feeling his eyes trailing after her with his usual trademark smirk.

The very next day, she quit. She knew what this horrible experience was leading her to, and she tried as a desperate attempt to stop it all.

But as she was walking by his cell, she heard him speak.

"Leaving so soon?" His voice echoed throughout the empty, spacious rooms. She paused, her skin pricking from his hypnotizing voice. "I thought we were close friends. You know _so_ much about me, and I know so much about _you_."

Her hands trembled. She was _dying_ to run back to him, to have their private visits. But with as much pride she could muster, she said coldly, "We're _not_ friends."

"But you're the only one who _laughed_ at my jokes." He countered, with a disappointed pout as he approached the bars. She finally looked over her shoulder, seeing the devil himself staring back at her through the clouding darkness. "It would be _such_ a shame for all this time to go to…waste. Wouldn't it?"

She held back an excited grin, keeping a guarded face.

"Besides," He continued, "what do you have to, uh, look forward to? Going home to read your little textbooks, or go back to college to major for something different? Once you quit this job, no one would _want_ or _like_ you. You'll be a nobody—forever. Does that….upset you? Hm? Knowing that people only liked you because of your skills of jamming into loony people's heads? Huh? Or, is it because once they find out you've _failed_, they'll throw you to the curb? Hmm? Which one is it?"

She knew what he was doing. He found her weakness, and he was trying to bring her down. And to her horror, she knew he was _winning_.

"I can show you other things." He said softly, in his mesmerizing voice. She felt in a daze as she stared at him, her feelings overwhelming her on the inside. "There's more than being cooped up inside. And a pretty girl like you doesn't deserve this kind of, uh, job."

"What game are you playing?" She finally asked, her guarded expression wearing off.

"Harley, Harley, Harley _Quinn_." He shook his head, licking his crimson lips for a moment. She read over his words inside of her mind, and actually found herself _liking_ them. "Harleen Quinzel doesn't match you. You seem more like a Harley Quinn."

Just as he confided his name for her, she knew she belonged to him. So that night, the Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum, with the help of Doctor Harleen Quinzel. It was flashing all over the news.

The Joker managed to morph an intelligent and sophisticated doctor, into a crazed and dangerous criminal. And the city was…_terrified_.

The two worked together for awhile, getting along. The Joker seemed to take more liking to her, enjoying her enthusiasm for helping him out, or her devotion towards him. She was, after all, the only one that shared his humor.

But one day, Batman came along. He nearly took all his men, so the Joker had to make a quick escape. He did take a moment to look for Harley, but couldn't find her. So, he had to leave. He still had some other men with him, but they were worried about their friend. Harley Quinn.

Meanwhile, Harley was hurt with a wound so great, that she could do nothing but lay in the street, aching in the pure torture of a lifetime.

_He'll come back for me_, she thought to herself, _he always does_.

But time passed by, and the blood was becoming thicker against her costume. The rain was mixing in with the red liquid, and her tears were becoming less frequent from her exhaustion.

"He's not coming back," To Harley's dismay, Batman told her. He stepped over her, staring at her wound. "Why do you work with him?"

"He saved me."

"He doesn't even _care_ about you." The Batman told her, crouching to pick her up. Weakly, Harley tried struggling in his grasp, remembering that her gun was at her feet. But he picked her up too quickly for her to grab it, and she finally went limp in his arms.

"Yes he does."

"He's tricked you. He lied. He lies to _everyone_. You were just an escape out of Arkham, nothing more."

Harley felt him walking, and closed her eyes, the exhaustion washing over her features. "I was….the only one who laughed at his jokes."

The Batman stayed silent. And as he continued walking, he continued sneaking glances at the woman in his arms. She was pretty; he had to admit, if she took off all the makeup and changed her mind. What the Joker turned her into was frightening, a puppet that belonged to him. He didn't care for her; she was nothing but a message to Gotham.

But Harley's thoughts were different. She was the Joker's pride; she showed Gotham that anybody could stoop down to his level. She found a good laugh in the Joker, and even though he left her behind, she regretted nothing. He certainly fascinated her, and she knew she had childish feelings for him, while he only held obsessed and crazy feelings for her in return.

So, as Batman hurried to dying girl to a hospital, he knew he wouldn't make it. She was dying.

And just as he hurried past the road, he heard her, through the loud thunder and lightning, takes one last intake of air, and then she closed her made up eyes, going limp in his arms.

She was dead.

And somewhere in Gotham, the Joker felt it. And he was _furious_.

"HARLEY!" His men heard him shout, and followed by silence.

They never heard him say her name again after that.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts! This was my first fanfic story ever =.="


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